A Soldier I Will Be
by Sallian
Summary: There is a darkness in our hearts, pulling and twisting until it's managed to fill every crack of our very soul. What once was filled with light and warmth has mangled itself into something so sinister that even the bravest of men will not step towards it. So, when someone offers you a chance of redemption and safe harbor, do you let it pass you by or do you grab on and hold tight?
1. Miles Formose

**_Chapter One:_**

_"__In modern war, you will die like a dog for no good reason."_

_- Ernest Hemingway_

The exhaustion settled over him at once; limbs grew tired and heavy as the air filled with the foul stench of the smoke. With a shaky sigh, his head rolled back and he allowed himself to sink into the couch, not even noting the press of springs against his back. Smoke swirled and danced around the room, pushing away the clearness to make way for the thick screen of fog. There was no use trying to mask the stench, but even still he made no move to open a window to bring in some circulation. No one bothered the worn down soldier who locked himself in the run-down motel room, not that there was anyone to bother him. Glazed, emerald orbs blinked slowly, the life in them fading little by little.

It was only on that couch, late in the evening when no one could intrude upon the silence, that the young man allowed himself to relax and sink into the self-dug hole of remorse and sorrow. No one was able to pull him from that hole, no one was able to push into his 'bubble' - he liked it that way. He reveled in the solitude, in the silence of the night. It was only when he was alone that he felt safe, secure even. But on the road, with no family or friends to turn back to, life isn't safe, or secure. Eventually demons catch up and the norm is thrown off the straight and narrow. Eventually you have to face your fears, your insecurities, you have to pull yourself back from the abyss and pray like hell the darkness didn't break you too bad.

Staring at the joint held limp in his fingers, the young man had to wonder if perhaps the darkness finally broke him. He wondered if perhaps the Light was merely too weak, to careless, and finally gave way to the unrelenting pressure of the Darkness. He shivered and took a last drag, allowing the smoke to swirl within him for a moment before breathing out. With the joint spent and the heavy weight of exhaustion resting on his form, he drug himself from the couch and to the bed, clothes dropping with each step. Staggering a step to the right, he collapsed on the prickly sheets, an arm draped over the side of the bed, wrist bent awkwardly backwards against the slate carpet. He heaved a final sigh and allowed his eyes to drift shut, drifting into a restless sleep within mere seconds, unbeknownst to the pale orbs watching over him from the shadows. He didn't register the radiating warmth that washed over him, nor the shadows receding into the depths of his mind to replace nightmares with memories of love and friendship.

From the corner stepped a lithe man, pale orbs softening as the war harden man's face evened out and the crinkles vanished. "Oh Dean," the man whispered, reaching a tan hand out to brush the slumbering man's cheek, "What have you done to yourself, Miles Formose." The slumbering Dean did not respond, breathing slowing from the erratic puffs it had just previously been. Dean didn't notice when the man left, suddenly there then gone a moment later . He didn't know how long the man watched him, he didn't know how long he slept. But, for the first time in a long time, he slept peacefully through the night. And, when the sun rose in the morning and his phone could no longer be ignored, when he swung his legs over the bed and let his sock-clad feet brush against the itchy carpet - Dean felt an ease about the day to come, he let himself relax for the first time as he made himself a coffee and reheated a day-old pie. For the first time in a long time, Dean felt he had a purpose again.

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**Alright, so hey guys. I posted this before on my other account, Kelik, but I'm switching over to this account I think so here y'a go. I'll likely update this tomorrow, or heck maybe even tonight if I can't get any sleep. Either way, yeah. This will be DeanCentric, maybe some Slash if I so decide. As it is, all I can guarantee is that it's not gonna be Sam friendly. Hope you enjoyed this little bit though! Please Review and tell me what ya think!**


	2. Mihi Fortis

**_Chapter Two_**

"_Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws."_

_- Jim Morrison_

Dotted rays of golden light streamed through the shades, casting their light down upon the slumbering form of a broken man. His skin was pale, near sickly so, and his hair lay in tangled tuffs around his head. His chest rose steadily, soft breaths puffing out across the irritating material of the bed sheets - staying in a run down shack of a motel did not bode well for luxurious items, not that the man had ever needed any. The shrill screams of his phone from across the room weren't nearly enough to draw him from the bed, nor was the dim thought of a warm shower. It wasn't until there was a heavy rapping at the door that he finally drew himself away from the warmth of the bed, though when the door was pulled open and light of day was cast into the room, he regretted the decision immensely. "Deano," his guest greeted coolly, side-stepping the hunter to enter the room, eyes too blue to seem logical squinty around the corners as a slow grin spread across pale skin. The day before had been easy - frighteningly so, considering how good of a night's sleep he'd gotten - but the night had been impossible. When he'd finally managed to drag himself back to the shabby motel, he'd collapsed and promptly accepted the darkness and fell into a deep, fitful slumber. And now, being woken by the Fallen Leader, Dean didn't know how he could have pissed 'God' off so much.

With a low sigh, Dean turned on his heels, door falling shut as he strode past the intruder and collapsed back on the bed, too tired to worry as to why the Fallen Angel was there. When the other's gaze settled on him, unrelenting and determined, Dean let out a frustrated snarl and rolled onto his back, "What do you want, Lucifer?" The grin that spread across the Angel's face could only be described as the smile a young child got on Christmas Morning.

"So glad you asked," the man chirped, striding over to the bed and gracefully sitting on it's edge. "You see, my demons are getting uncontrollable in my absence. I'm curious as to why you've done nothing to stop them. We have a very easy balance, Hunters and Demons that is. Hunters slay demons. So why is my favorite little hunter not hunting as he should?" Lucifer's eyes sparked with a flicker of… well something, before the predatory glint returned. Dean knew that was a bullshit answer, though he made no move to rebuke it. With his eyes shut and his skin crawling, Dean forced himself to become use to the other man's presence.

"I don't hunt anymore," he confessed softly, words barely a whisper but knowing the Fallen could hear him. And he didn't, hunt that is. He'd given that life up the prior year, the loss had been too great - Bobby, Castiel, Ellen, Jo. How was he to go on when they were all gone? Even Sam wasn't with him anymore, though his baby brother wasn't dead exactly. He breathed out a sigh and pushed himself up, moving to grab his duffle bag from the chair by the window, tossing random items in carelessly. "I'm not part of your little war anymore. I'm done. So buzz of." His words lacked their usual defiance, dead in their own right. Lucifer watched the young Winchester silently, head cocked ever so slightly to the side.

"He was right, you have given up," Lucifer's words barely registered in Dean's mind, the words too soft to hear clearly. When he turned his head back to the Fallen angel though, Dean startled. The other being was closer to him before, the tip of his nose brushing against the dark fabric of Lucifer's shirt. "What happened to you, Mihi Fortis?" Arms, cool and strong, curled around him briefly; the tingle of acceptance, or love even, spiked through Dean. For a moment, however brief, Dean wanted to sink into the embrace, wanted to let himself feel the relief and security the other man was offering. When realization that it was Lucifer, The Morning Star, that was hugging him however, he jerked away with a growl, emerald orbs cold and filled with a fury Lucifer had yet to see.

"Don't touch me. I don't know what you're doing here, can't say I give a damn, but get out. I ain't given up on anything, I've moved on. So fuck off." Dean turned his back to the other man, throwing more items into the duffle bag before jerking it up and storming out the door. With the bag successfully thrown into the back seat of the Impala, Dean turned one last time to Lucifer, "I don't know who 'He' is, but if I catch any of you or your lackies near me, I'll kill you where you stand." With those fleeting words, Dean slid into the Drivers seat and ignited the ignition. He ripped out of the Parking Lot. If another angel appeared beside Lucifer, he didn't notice. He didn't see the worry crossing either's features or the way both shared a sad side glance to one another. All Dean knew was that he needed to get away. From everything.

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**Hey guys, so here's another chapter. I know it's not the best ever, but I'm still just getting into this ;P I promise it'll get better and less confusing! More to come as to why Sam isn't around and why Dean "no longer hunts." Maybe the next chapter or the one after! Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Please Review! **

**Thanks, **

**Sallian**


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